When Finn's boss sends him to a museum in Brooklyn, the last person he expects to see is his old rival, Troy. Although Finn and Troy have undeniable sexual chemistry, Finn still blames Troy for sending his career off the rails but Troy has research Finn needs. Troy also has an intriguing story; the museum he curates is haunted by the ghosts of two men who died under mysterious circumstances in 1878. Troy strikes a deal: he'll help Finn if Finn helps him find out what happened to the men who died.
From diaries, police reports, and newspaper articles, Finn and Troy piece together the lives of the two dead men--and the romance that bloomed between them. As it becomes clear that the men were murdered, it also becomes clear that the ghosts are real and are capable of manipulating the dreams, thoughts, and actions of the living. When Finn and Troy start falling for each other, Finn worries that it's all an illusion concocted by the ghosts to keep them working together to solve the mystery, but Troy is convinced the love between them is real. But how can he get rid of a couple of ghosts and prove it?
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Loose Id, LLC
October 10, 2011
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Excerpt from Across the East River Bridge by Kate Mcmullan
The squeal of the subway train's brakes as it pulled into the station intensified Finn's headache, making the pain reverberate through his head. The bumpy ride once he got on the train didn't help much either. This was but one of many reasons he rarely left Manhattan.
Finn closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. He mentally ran through his to-do list for the day and felt exhausted just thinking about it. The vibrations from the train intensified his headache, making it hard to think. He needed to get this little side trip over with. Then he just had a few more hours to work before he could go to sleep.It was because of Loretta Kitteredge that he found himself in Brooklyn a short time later. She had dispatched him on a fact-finding mission. Loretta was in the midst of writing the definitive biography of Victoria Woodhull, the first woman to run for president, and she was looking for some dirt. Rumor had it that Woodhull had lived briefly at the Brill House, a five-story brownstone in Brooklyn Heights, so Finn was on this wild-goose chase to find information he didn't think would be there. The Brill House was a recent acquisition of the Kings County Historical Society, which had converted the building into a museum showcasing what life was like in Brooklyn in the 1870s. Finn had scored an appointment with the curator.
Or that's what he thought when he went into the building. Instead, he was greeted in the lobby by Troy Rafferty, of all people. As if the day couldn't get any worse.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Finn asked, letting his gaze travel over Troy's infuriatingly handsome face. He rubbed his temples gently, trying to get the ache to ease.
Their gazes met briefly. Troy was still hot in a Clark Kent kind of way, his broad chest hidden under an eggplant-colored button-down shirt and matching tie, dark-rimmed glasses sitting on his nose, dark hair neatly combed. Finn silently lamented that his enemies had to come in such attractive packages.
Troy laughed. "It is lovely to see you again too. As it happens, I curate this house."
Finn knew that Troy was working for the KCHS these days, but this promotion was news to him. "You're kidding, right? I made an appointment with a woman named Genevieve."
Troy's grin was unnerving. "Genevieve is my assistant. She has been doing the tours lately, but when I saw that she'd made an appointment with one Christopher Finnegan, I decided I had to follow up myself." He straightened the cuffs on his shirt, drawing attention to his big hands. "How are you, Finn?"
"Oh, just dandy. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were stalking me."
"You give me too much credit." Troy motioned for Finn to follow him into an office off the lobby. The room looked like the relic of the past that it was--given the ornate wallpaper, the thick curtains, and the severe-looking man in the painting on the wall--if you overlooked the brand-new laptop sitting on the intricately carved desk. There was a lot of clutter too; Troy had never been terribly organized. He clucked his tongue. "Or maybe you're right. Obviously, I knew that you would one day be researching a project on nineteenth-century Brooklyn, so I quit my job at NYU to take a low-paying assistant curator job at the Kings County Historical Society in the hopes that one day I'd curate the museum in an old house the KCHS just acquired three months ago, knowing you'd want an appointment."